Emerald
by Netrixie
Summary: Draco has a very difficult choice to make. Vague DRAMIONE.
1. His Traitorous Heart

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.'s. I merely enjoy playing with her creations

**Dedication: **This is dedicated to Amber Athame', because she made me watch too many Dramione videos on , and this idea got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone.

**Warning: **Character death. Immense sadness (probably inspired by the fact that I had no internet while I was typing this…).

**Situation: **After Seventh Year- all age 21

**Beta: **un'beta'd. Sad me. I need a beta.

**Title: **Emerald

**Chapter 1**: His Traitorous Heart

The dim light coming from the curtained windows eased my headache. I raised a hand to my face and covered my eyes, allowing myself some rest from the expressionless mask I forced myself to wear at all other times. In the safety of my rooms I could pretend that I no longer needed to hide my feelings behind shuttered eyes.

I dropped my hand and continued pacing, as I had been for the past hour or so, rationalizing with myself. There was no reason for me to have this hesitancy when it came to fulfilling my vows. I laced my fingers together to hide their trembles, and stared at the treacherous digits.

At no other time in my life had I ever contemplated going against my Master's will. I did everything exactly as he told me, and did it well. And yet here I was, waging a war against my own body, half of me fighting the well- conditioned urge to obey my Master's bidding.

_It should not be this difficult! _I railed to myself. The weak female in the cell far below me should not be able to influence my acts. I believed in my Master. I freely accepted his beliefs.

_Mudbloods are a blight upon the Wizarding World. Purebloods are the superior race, _I chanted to myself. _We must purge our world of the taint staining it. The Mudbloods cannot be allowed to breed and further contaminate the Wizarding World. _The mantra filled my mind, yet instead of soothing my doubts as it always had before, it increased them.

_Are you doing the right thing, Draco?_ My subconscious murmured to me. _Are you so sure in your beliefs that you would seal her fate? _

"Aaargh!" My sudden, guttural cry interrupted the insidious whispers, and I spun around, grabbing a priceless vase and hurling it against the wall. The resulting shower of broken glass released the tension inside of me, and I stared at the remains as I thought.

I knew what had to be done. I knew that I had to obey my Master.

So why was I hesitating? What stupidity had overcome my common sense? It was easy- go down to the dungeons, kill the whelp, report to the Master, and I would live. Any other answer to this would result in death- my death. But God help me, _why_ was I still wavering? Why could I not make the decision?

"What is wrong with me?" I moaned, dropping into the chair in front of my desk and resting my head in my hands. I stayed that way, thinking. What long- buried part of my soul had arisen from the ashes to reclaim my conscience? And why was it happening now?

I reached deep down inside of myself, searching for the answer. No- there was no residual hope of becoming Potter's friend. No- I didn't want to switch sides- I agreed with all of the principles of my Master. No- I didn't have any guilt for what I had done.

So what was it?

I thought about the prisoner trapped in the warded cell. She had no power- I held her wand in my own pocket. There was nothing spectacular about her appearance, if anything, it was merely remarkable that she was still alive with the amount of blood loss she had sustained. An inaudible growl rose in my throat as I conjured up a picture of her to my mind's eye. Broken, bleeding, defeated- and all I wanted to do was kill whoever had done that to her.

My hand stole up to my neck to capture the emerald that had swung free from my shirt. I studied it, appreciating the fine, delicate lines that encased the gem, coiled like serpents through the silver chain, ensnared the eye of the unwary. I let it bring me back from the killing edge, calming me with it's familiarity, and as I gazed into the fathoms of the stone, I allowed myself be drugged by the play of light, and listened to what my subconscious was trying to tell me.

My head snapped up, and my eyes widened in shock. No- no, it couldn't be. I shoved the chair back as I stood and resumed my pacing, my disbelief masking the sound of a sharp _crack _as a house elf appeared. Only when the servile creature dared to interrupt did I realize it was with me.

"What do you want?" I couldn't take my mind off of the shameful truth I had discovered, and tuned out the fearful stammering of the elf until a whispered sentence caught my attention.

"… Master Lucius said th- th- that he w- w- would take care of th- the Mudb- blood if M- M- Master doesn't hurry up."

The creature shrank in fear as I cursed, and spat "Tell my _Father _that I will take care of the Mudblood after she has suffered enough." I paused, and added, "And come back when you're done." My house elf disappeared with another sharp crack, and I went over to the window.

I was _not_ in love with the Mudblood. I have dedicated these past three years to eradicating their filthy race. How had this happened? My whirling mind made it harder to think, and I forcibly calmed myself.

It would not do to be anything other than Draco Lucius Malfoy, Lord Malfoy in my own right, and heir to the Malfoy fortune, if my father came into the room. A moment later, Biddy re- appeared, looking much the worse for the wear. My temper rose, and I barely restrained myself from seeking out my father and murdering him. Biddy was _mine, _and no one was allowed to touch her.

"What did he have to say?" I asked softly, deadly. The creature shrank beneath my tone, but spoke.

"M- M- Master Lucius sa- says to take ca- care of it n- n- now." She flinched back, clearly bracing herself, and my temper rose. I have _never _lain a harmful hand on Biddy, and I never would. My nostrils flared of their own accord, and I walked away from the window.

Holding out my hand to the cowering elf, I commanded lowly, "Take me to the Mudblood." She reached out gingerly and grasped my hand, and - still groveling- brought us to the dungeons.

The trip was smooth, barely noticeable, and I waited to let go of her hand until my eyes had adjusted to the dim light. There was no one present, neither guard nor family, and the fearful elf pressed against my leg as I stood. Only one cell had a ward activated as we only had the one prisoner, and my sight seemed to be filled with the softly glowing doorway.

Pressing my hand to Biddy's head, I brought her with me as I walked forward, stopping before the active ward. The object and reminder of my torment was inside, a crumpled, broken shell of a body covered in old and new blood. Bushy hair was matted and tangled, lank and disgusting. The arm hanging at her side faced the wrong direction, and scarlet blood was tracing a sluggish path down her calves.

I snarled silently, displeased with the picture of brokenness before me, quelling the rising thought that she did not deserve to be treated like this. It seemed my own mind was set against me as I viewed the prisoner.

My body was still, composed, expressionless, but my instinct was to get her out of here, bring her anywhere where she could be treated, save her from the spectre of Death I imagined standing in the corner, waiting to steal her final breath.

Biddy whimpered, and pressed closer to my leg, actually daring to hug it as she also observed the bloody wreck. The sound of my elf was what finally signaled our presence to the Mudblood.

She brought her head up tiredly, as if in slow motion, and when she met my gaze, no recognition flared in her eyes. Nothing but the weary look of someone who has come to expect torture from anyone.

I would like to believe that my own face held no expression other than cool indifference, but I cannot say for sure. I hated the female more in that moment than at any other time, for she had succeeded in piercing my armour, a thing no one else had ever managed.

As she stared at me with resignation, something seemed to come over her, and she cocked her head and regarded me closely. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable moment when she realized who I was. But it never came. It passed, and she looked away, apparently grasping that no one was going to torture her, and my lips twisted into a perversion of a smile as I accepted the fact that her faculties were gone.

Why, then, was the urge to take her away still so strong? If she did not have control over her mind, she did not deserve to live. But still the urge was there, and I contemplated it, leaning against the doorway. I watched her, unable to decide what I was going to do.

It would be so easy to carry out my Masters orders right now, when she was in no shape to defy me, and she _could_ not defy me. Yet I hesitated, gazing at her in bewilderment now, as no one was there to see. It would be so easy…

I straightened with a decisive movement, and her eyes shot up to take me in, fearful that her period of grace was over. But I ignored her, and turned to Biddy.

"Biddy," I said, my voice as composed as my mind was not, and as the elf jumped away from my leg the Mudblood gasped in comprehension.

She knew who I was now, and the wary fear in her gaze tore at my heart in a way I could not fathom. But I merely raised an eyebrow at her. It seemed that the girl who had bested me in all of our classes was back, and I no longer knew what to do.

Hidden in the back of my mind, my blackened soul sang in relief that she had _not_ lost herself into the pits of insanity, but my rational mind was pitched into turmoil without warning, thrown back into the fray that would determine if I would obey my Master.

As Hermione stared at me, I fought with myself, struggling to stay afloat in the sea of indecision that suffused my thoughts.

The bloodied female was no longer a faceless entity representative of the filth of the Earth, but the girl who I knew would one day help destroy my Master.

And only one agonized thought filled my head- _what should I do?_


	2. An Anguished Love

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.'s. I merely enjoy playing with her creations

**Dedication: **This is dedicated to Amber Athame', because she made me watch too many Dramione videos on , and this idea got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone.

**Warning: **Character death. Immense sadness (probably inspired by the fact that I had no internet while I was typing this…).

**Situation: **After Seventh Year- all age 21

**Beta: **

**Title: **Emerald

**Chapter 2**: An Anguished Love

_-What should I do?_

She stared at me with those fear- filled eyes, and I cursed myself as I stepped away from the doorway, and gestured for Biddy to come back to me. As she cringed her way over, I watched Hermione with hooded eyes. She sat still and frozen in her corner, not moving, obviously hoping for me to leave, guessing at what I had been sent to do.

When Biddy was next to me, I ordered "Open the ward." She glanced at me in fear, but moved to obey. The elf pointed to the doorway, and a moment later I knew the ward was gone. Hermione scooted back as far as she was capable, stopping when her wounds forced her to.

There was no escape but the door, and I stood in the way. I stared at her, and took a step closer. Her face became blank, as if I were going to be abusing her. I felt my face tighten, and cursed myself yet again for my decision.

"Biddy, take it's hand." The elf skirted past me on her way into the cell, and when she had a firm grip on the Mudblood looked at me for direction. I merely held my hand out to her, ignoring the fear and puzzlement on Hermione's face. Grasping Biddy's slender hand, I bowed my head to let my hair obscure my features, and smiled at the nervous creature.

"Take us to the cemetery in Godric's Hollow, please." I whispered, and her tiny face lit up with pleasure as she obeyed.

When we arrived, I released my elf's hand and looked at Hermione. She was confused, that was blatantly obvious, and scared even as she took in the familiar surroundings. I waited patiently for her to look at me, and when she did, asked "Do you know where you are?"

She nodded dumbly, not understanding. Sighing, I walked over and crouched down in front of her, and looked her in the eye. "Hermione Granger," I said musingly, "Mudblood, witch, Harry Potter loyalist. I bet you're wondering why you're here."

She barely twitched as I settled down on my heels in front of her. Her eyes reflected her understanding that she could not save herself in this situation, whatever it might be. She was weak with blood loss, and at a disadvantage. I wondered briefly why I had decided to save the girl, but pushed the thought away before I dwelt to deeply on it. I did not need that particular distraction right now.

"However much I hate to say it, I feel… indebted… to you, Mudblood." Her face was blank; clearly she had no idea what I was talking about. I sighed, and continued. "You see, without your- particular- brand of encouragement, I would never have joined the Dark Lord." It was enjoyable to play with her mind, masking the true reason I had saved her filthy, tainted skin.

"Third year, don't you remember?" I didn't wait for her to answer but went on. "You introduced me to the Muggle way of fighting, and it was then that I realized why Mudbloods are a stain on the world. You change everything, and you deform all you touch. You make light of Wizarding Tradition, and you _don't care._ You should all be eradicated."

Biddy was pulling at my sleeve, and I bent my head so that my elf could whisper in my ear. I nodded, then turned back to Hermione. "You're lucky today, Mudblood. You're lucky that I give all my old classmates a second chance." Oh, the web of lies I wove. "You're lucky I don't have the time to give you a proper send- off."

I stood, and fastidiously brushed the dirt and dust off of my knees. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a battered wand and set it on the dirt a few feet out of her reach. I walked over to Biddy, and she slipped her hand back into mine. Bending to tell her our next destination, a movement from the Mudblood caught my eye.

She was holding a hand to her side to stem the flow of fresh blood the motion had induced, and she was leaning towards me. "Why?" She asked, her voice rusty from disuse and continual screaming. She cleared her throat, and went on. "Why did you let me go?"

I laughed, a bitter sound that shook me to my bones. She flinched and cowered, but still she watched me. I admired her bravery for a second before smirking coldly and answering. "I already told you." Ignoring her pleading cries, and the fast approaching Order members, I looked down at Biddy and smiled. "Take us to Uncle Severus."

She obeyed my low command, and the Mudbloods cries cut off as I found myself in a dark room.

Looking around, I spotted Severus half hidden in a deep wing backed chair placed in front of a small fire. He knew I was there, of course, but refused to acknowledge my presence. I shrugged, and told Biddy to wait for me.

Going over to stand next to him, I waited. After a moment, he spoke, lowly and without inflection. "I thought I told you never to come here, Draco." I smiled briefly before correcting him. "You said never come here unless it was with important news. So here I am."

He turned blank eyes on me, and I knew he was readying himself to kill me. For what other news would I bring him, but that I had killed his favorite student? For everyone who mattered knew that she was housed at Malfoy Manor to be tortured and dealt with.

I sat heavily into the matching chair as my forced composure fled, leaving me open and defenseless. I ignored my Godfathers piercing gaze, and partook of the Fire Whiskey sitting on the low table in front of him. I welcomed the searing path it burned down my throat, and opened my eyes to see Severus staring at me in frank astonishment. I never drank around others.

Twirling the glass in my hands idly, I watched the light from the fire reflect within its depths. "Do not worry, Severus," I said heavily, "Your Mudblood is still alive." I shut my eyes to block out the sight of his incredulous stare, and tossed back the rest of the fiery liquid.

Finally gaining the courage to look into his eyes, I immediately wished I hadn't. His gaze held a compassion for me that I didn't deserve, and an understanding that almost broke my heart. I stayed silent, wondering what his first question would be, hoping it was not the one I feared it was.

"How is that possible Godson?" His inquiry made me smile slightly. He hadn't called me 'Godson' since I had followed in my fathers footsteps. "Just like old days, huh?" I quipped, unable to answer his question just yet. Severus also smiled slightly, and waited.

"She is in Godric's Hollow, Severus. They will have already found her." That was all the answer that he would get from me, and the tone of my voice made that clear. He seemed to recognize the end of that discussion, because he just settled back into his chair and let me enjoy the silence. I was thankful to him, and immersed myself in my mind, trying to figure out what came next.

My hand crept up to my necklace again, and fiddled with it. I frowned vaguely. I had always meant to break that habit. But my hand would not stay still, it turned the gem over and over, entwining my fingers with the fluid chain, following the course of my thoughts. I stared distractedly into the fire, not noticing my Godfathers gaze resting on my shoulders.

The necklace seemed to catch my tension and hold it apart from me, lending me space to think in. I watched the flames flicker and dance as my mind spun in circles, alternately praising and berating myself for my actions. I suppose that I will have to pay the price for my spectacular display of disobedience someday. I wonder dispassionately what story will work to get me out of it.

But it is of no consequence now. What's done is done, and all that. I drop my hand from the enticing jewel and sit up straight. I have to go back to the Manor at some point.

Severus has been watching me, I can tell, by the way his eyes rest too coincidentally on the back of my chair. But I do not care. I feel empty inside, like the thing that had been sustaining me has suddenly disappeared.

I stand, and bow to my Godfather, Uncle, friend. I wonder momentarily if he has guessed why I set the Mudblood free. But he doesn't say anything, and I don't offer to tell.

I walk over to where Biddy is patiently waiting, and take her hand. I am about to command her to take us home when Severus leans out of his chair and looks to me. I merely wait for him to speak, and when he does, I am glad I did.

"Whatever you did, and why ever you did it, I am proud of you, Draco." His rare, full smile shone with all the love he had for me, and I broke my stern composure for a moment to go over to him. I stand undecided for a minute, but throw my upbringing to the wind and bend to hug him, hard. He clutches at me, and I at him, and for a moment I can pretend that he is the one who gave birth to me, for he is the only human who has ever cared what happens to me.

I let go, and turn my back on him, affording him the privacy he will need to recover from the unseemly display. Taking Biddy's hand again, I send a tentative smile towards my Godfather and say, "Biddy, please take us home."

The last thing I saw before the familiar furnishings of Malfoy Manor filled my view was the caring smile that graced Severus' face as he bid me farewell.


	3. Broken and Betrayed

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.'s. I merely enjoy playing with her creations

**Warning: **Character death

**Situation: **After Seventh Year- all age 21

**Title: **Emerald

**Chapter 3**: Broken and Betrayed

* * *

The cold of the stone felt good against my open wounds. I pressed as much of my broken body against it as I could, refusing to whimper when the pain lanced through my heart. I opened my lids and looked at my body, or what I could see of it from swollen and bruised eyes. After one glance I slammed them shut and rested my head on the wall.

From what I could see- and feel- my legs were broken. It took a spectacular effort to keep my gorge down as I envisioned the awkward angle of my legs, and saw the glistening, pearly white bone sticking out of that particularly nasty wound. Even as I held my eyes closed, my mind was taking an inventory of my injuries. Broken legs were a definite, as were the few broken ribs I could feel.

Turning my head to alleviate some of the pressure on my neck, I gasped as the sharp pain in my collarbone made it's presence known. Adding broken clavicle to my list, I sat up slowly and carefully, trying to keep conscious as the shards of pain blurred my sight. I braced myself, and glanced back down at my body to see what was hurt.

My legs were covered with the vibrant red of fresh blood, and several gouges were in my sight in addition to the breaks. My stomach had been lacerated and was bleeding freely. My left arm hung limp at my side, but otherwise seemed to be fine. My lips twisted into a grimace as I saw that my Mark had been left unscathed.

Perhaps it was a reminder.

What little strength I had left me and I collapsed against the wall with a low moan. My eyes slid shut as the pain took over, and I sank into my memories.

I hadn't expected them to be waiting for me when I arrived home. Somehow I thought I would be given a days grace, or even an hour, but they knew, and were waiting. I was torn from Biddy as they grabbed my arms, and the only thing I can remember was my fathers disgusted glare as he took in my appearance. I was brought before my Lord immediately and thrown at his feet. The only ones there were my father, and Goyle Sr. and MacNair- my captors.

My Lord had been… displeased with me, to say the very least. But I had learned my lessons too well, and he could not enter my mind. I praised Severus for his firm insistence in teaching me the art of Occulmency. I blessed his name and thanked whatever gods would listen to me that he had.

But when they realized they could get no information out of me by force or Legilimency, they turned to other encouraging tactics. I flushed in shame at their humiliation. _How could you have saved the Mudblood? Why would you have even wanted to? _Still silent I had taken the abuse, but their words echoed in my head, making me doubt my own actions as I endured the interrogation.

When that hadn't worked, they had turned to other, more… hands on …methods to break my silence. Stripping me, for one, and whipping me. Seeing how many I would take before giving in, how hard I would fall once the pain became unbearable.

I hadn't. I had bitten a hole in my lip rather than give them the satisfaction of a response.

I stayed silent and unresponsive until they decided to take matters further. Strapping me to a table and raping me. I shuddered as I remembered, the mere memories making me sick. It was the only time I had struggled, the only time I had let them get to me. But they didn't stop, they didn't, and I can still feel the sickening pain as their disgusting members slammed into my body over, and over, and over again.

My own father- no, I will not think of that. I will _not_ think of his sick need to please his Master in everything. My pleas only seemed to make it more _enjoyable_, and they took twisted pleasure in the godforsaken act.

I struggled to ride out of the past, but it held me too tightly. They had dragged me, unresponsive and broken, to this cell, throwing me in like so much garbage, and laughing at me, left. I had passed out when the hard floor had connected with my crushed body, and woke from the painless blackness a while later.

Now, free from my memories, I sit here in this disgusting filth, contemplating my future. Or what little there might be of it. I do not think I will survive this Hell.

I believe that I will never be forgiven by the Dark Lord, and I find I am almost grateful.

I have not yet decided if I did the right thing by taking the Mudblood and setting her free. But I do know that I would never have forgiven myself if I had been the one to kill or allow Hermione Granger's death. I suppose that in a roundabout way I have forgiven myself for breaking my vows to the Dark Lord. I suppose I have determined that granting her freedom with my blood had been worth it.

Earlier, when I had stood outside of my Mudbloods cell, I had fancied seeing Death at her feet, waiting to swoop in and collect her beautiful spirit. I see now that it was an illusion brought together by my betraying mind, for the darkness amassing around my eyes is the portent of a darker power, waiting for me.

My hand reaches up to caress my necklace, and when it connects with the cool silver, I freeze with surprise. I distinctly remember them ripping the chain from my neck when they stripped me. My hand convulses over the emerald as grateful tears fill my eyes. There is one thing they cannot take from me, it seems. My hand continues to stroke the piece of jewelry, and I feel a faint idea take root in the back of my mind.

It is a long stretch, but maybe… I make up my mind. I will try it anyway.

But as I think about it, the idea expands, and turns into a plot to take a semi- revenge on those who have betrayed me. My working arm gropes around for a sharp rock, and yet when I find it, I stop.

Should I do this? I can feel Death approaching even as I think this, creeping near to me to steal my soul, so with an agonizing slowness, I decide to go through with it. I grip the rock firmly in my right hand, point out, and brace my left arm between my body and the wall.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, I bring the rock down on my Mark and gouge out the flesh.

The pain surprises me. I would have thought that nothing could make me hurt any more. Obviously I was wrong. But I ignore the pain, and concentrate on my task. Dropping the rock, I dip my index finger into the welling ruby fluid and drag it across the wall.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Finally the message is spelled out, and my hand is trembling with exhaustion as it lowers for the last time. The darkness gathering around my eyes is more pronounced now, and I feel light, like I might be floating.

With an effort I bring myself back to the earthly world. I will be joining the other soon enough. I wonder if this will work…?

"Biddy," I call, my voice hoarse and cracked from pain. The immediate _crack_ signaled her arrival, and I roused myself enough to smile at her frightened face.

"Thank you for coming," I manage, and her eyes fill with tears as she takes my condition in.

"Master! What can- do you- _Master_?"

Her squeaky, tremulous voice brings a painful lump into my throat, and the tears obscure my already wavering vision.

"Biddy, come… here." It is getting difficult to talk, and I smile again as she is right by my side with no further invitation. I raise my right arm and gesture to my necklace. "Take… this… off."

The now crying elf does so, and holds the shiny, blood covered thing to her chest. My head falls back against the wall again, but this time I cannot manage to lift it back up. My body slides down into a crumpled pile of broken, bleeding human, and I call to Biddy again as it gets harder to breathe.

"Biddy." I have to pause for breath, but suck in a painful lungful and go on. "Biddy, I am going… to die." My elf immediately started to cry harder, saying "No, Master! No!" But I continue over her objections.

I have to.

"Biddy, when I am dead… I want you… to go to… my Mudblood and… give her… the necklace." My breathing is shallow now, and I wonder vaguely how much longer I can hang on. "I want… you to pledge… yourself… to her…" My voice trails off of its own accord, and my elf comes closer, holding my necklace in one hand and stroking my hair with her other.

The touch is soothing, and as I struggle to add "Keep… her… safe…" my head rolls to the side and I can hear footsteps in the distance, heading our way.

I want to tell her to go, to protect herself, but the words stick in my throat as the elf pulls my head into her lap, as she whispers brokenly "Master cannot leave Biddy. Biddy obeys Master, but Master cannot leave Biddy." Her voice rises as she continues speaking, and I want her to go and be safe but it is getting harder and harder to think.

I force my way up to the surface of the night I am sinking into; there is one last thing I need to say.

"… thank… you…" It comes out raspy and low, but I did it, and as the last word is uttered, I free- fall into the calm serenity that is embracing my soul.

As Biddy cradles my head in her arms, my last breath is a sigh of relief as blessed numbness flows through my veins. The last thing I see as the world fades is a familiar smiling face, framed by emerald green.

Whole. Perfect.

Safe.

I treasure the feel of my elf's tears caressing my temple as the beckoning darkness finally gathers me into its welcoming arms.

I must have done the right thing.


	4. Let the Rebellion Live

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.'s. I merely enjoy playing with her creations

**Title: **Emerald

**Chapter 4**: Let the Rebellion Live

* * *

When Hermione woke up, it was to the bright, happy smiles of Harry and Ron, leaning over her bed with relief at her awakening. She sat up slowly, thankful for their helping hands, and looked around.

"Where am I?" she asked, taking in her surroundings. White walls and rows of cots suggested a Hospital Ward, but she didn't recognize it.

Ron answered eagerly. "We're in the Lovegood Ward of St. Mungo's, 'Mione. It's brand- new."

Her heart stopped. "Luna?" she asked faintly as she brought her hand up to her chest. Harry knocked Ron aside with his elbow and gave her a calming smile.

"Luna is fine," he said, glaring at Ron, "We dedicated the ward to her father." Hermione's heart stopped its frantic race, and she smiled at her boys once she was able to.

"So. What happened while I was out of it?" They exchanged glances, and turned back to the woman.

"Nothing has changed on the Front, we've recruited three more Order members, and you're awake." Harry shrugged, and shifted. "I don't want to ask, but we need to know. Do you remember any of what they did to you?"

Hermione went pale, and looked away. The silence in the Ward was oppressive, and she carefully kept her eyes from meeting those of her two best friends. The boys waited patiently, already knowing that it would not be easy for her to talk about her ordeal. Finally she spoke, her voice low and toneless.

"I was on a research mission, trying to find information on their newest weapon," Harry and Ron nodded. They had sent her out on that assignment. She continued. "I didn't realize when it got cold what was happening. But when the Dementors surrounded me, it was too late to call up my Patronus. They came down, gliding past me but never coming near, seeming to be holding me captive. They parted when a masked Death Eater came from behind them, and the next thing I remember is waking up in a dungeon.

I tried to get out, but the wards on the door forced me back and prevented me from leaving. Lucius Malfoy was standing there, watching me with that sadistic smirk, laughing at my failed attempts to get free." Hermione shifted under the covers and brought them up to her chin, and finally met their eyes. "That was the beginning of the torture. I lost track of the days that went by, they blended into each other," _each day a blur of pain and blood, _she added to herself.

"I'm gonna kill Malfoy." Ron muttered, but Hermione heard him and stopped her painful commentary to say "Draco never once joined in. He never even came to watch. Unlike Malfoy Sr." She flushed painfully when their gazes came to rest on her at the last admission.

"Lucius Malfoy… raped me. Repeatedly." She blurted, and then rolled over and hid her face under her covers from their shock.

When she rolled back, their faces were composed again, though she didn't comment on the strange gleam in their eyes. Privately she thought that she wouldn't be surprised if Lucius Malfoy ended up very dead in the next engagement. But they urged her to continue her story, and so she did.

"Draco showed up one day and just stood outside my cell. He was watching me, and I thought he was his father- I was terrified of him. But he didn't do anything, just stood there, so I dismissed him. He wasn't an immediate threat. Then he called his house elf over and I recognized his voice. Anyone would recognize that voice." Harry and Ron both nodded their agreement, and she continued.

"I was scared that he was going to hurt me too, but he just told his elf to take down the ward and take my hand. Then he had the poor thing bring us to the cemetery where you found me." She paused, reflecting on the memory. Draco had smiled at his elf, but he had to have treated her badly for her to be that cowed by him.

Hermione didn't understand.

"But he said he was letting me free because he always let his classmates have a second chance. I think-" but she cut herself off when Harry started shaking his head.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Harry replied slowly, "Draco Malfoy is one of the most vicious of Voldemort's Death Eaters. When you face him in battle, you never get a second chance. He is Voldemort's personal executioner. When he comes to you, you die."

Ron nodded his agreement, and they all sat there, thinking. Why had he let Hermione go?

A sharp _crack_ gathered their attention, and they all stared in shock at the little house elf. The poor thing was covered in blood, crying, and shaking so hard a small gust would knock her over. Hermione swung her legs over the edge of the bed, disbelief filling her eyes.

"Is that- are you- _Biddy_?" she asked incredulously, and the elf wiped mournful eyes as she looked up at the human.

"Biddy obeys her Master, yes she does. Biddy gives this to Masters Mudblood." Even though Harry and Ron sucked their breath in fast at the terminology, Hermione reached out and took the proffered thing.

It was covered in blood, and Hermione held it in her hands gingerly. It was mesmerizing, this necklace, even bloody, and she vaguely recalled seeing Draco wear it. When Biddy spoke again, Hermione's eyes were focused on the emerald and silver masterpiece.

"Biddy obeys Master. Biddy pledges to Masters Mudblood." The high squeaky voice broke and the tears came again, big and fast, and the elf hugged herself tight, and backed into a corner, shaking.

Hermione glanced up and took in the creature, before going back to the necklace. She ignored the exclamations of surprise coming from Harry and Ron, and gazed into the center of the emerald. If she looked hard enough, she could almost see Draco's face.

Her contemplation was shattered when the door to the ward opened and shut forcefully, revealing a furious Severus Snape. His eyes scanned the room, taking in Hermione in the Hospital gown sitting on the edge of her bed, holding a bloody necklace he was very familiar with, the sobbing house elf in the corner he was even more familiar with, and the two softly arguing young men.

"What is going on?" he asked quietly, deadly. The intense voices stopped, and Hermione raised her eyes from the necklace to meet her old Professor's gaze. With the now quiet sobbing of the hose elf in the corner, the room was as silent as it was going to get.

"Why don't you tell us, Sir? We've been here for over two hours. Surely we couldn't have done something wrong already?" Harry's voice was faintly mocking and sarcastic, but that was normal. What wasn't normal was that Severus dropped into a chair and covered his face in his hands.

After a moment, he spoke. "Draco is dead." The silence that followed was quickly obliterated by the questions coming from the two men. Snape, however, held his hand up in a silent plea for peace, and got it. "He was taken for questioning early this afternoon, and placed in a holding cell." Severus seemed to shrink inside his body, and paused before going on. "He was found two hours later, dead, apparently from the extent of his wounds."

There was silence in the ward as the shocked three listened to the report. Severus went on. "But what no one was willing to report was that he had written a message on the wall. In his own blood." The young men leaned forward, eager to hear what Snape had to say. "It read 'Let the Rebellion Live.'"

"I come here to share this news, and I find that I am too late. I see that my Godson's house elf and necklace are already here. Why is that, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione looked up. "I don't know."

They all turned to Biddy, who looked up from her weeping and said, "Master said to go to his Mudblood when he died, and to give her Master's necklace and pledge service. Biddy followed Master's orders!" Her voice rose into a wail and broke with new tears as Severus looked a Hermione appraisingly. _Could this be why Draco let her go? Did he-? No. It does not matter anymore._ Severus turned back to the two men and started planning, pushing his overwhelming grief to the side. He could mourn later.

Hermione called Biddy to her softly, and placed a hand on the elf's head. The poor thing sobbed harder at the reminder of her Master, and wrapped her arms around Hermione's leg as she cried her heart out on her Mistress's leg. Slowly rubbing Biddy's head, Hermione looked into the emerald again, seized by a desire to know its secrets.

Severus glanced over at Ms. Granger, and froze for a moment. How many times had he seen Draco doing the same thing, rubbing his elf's head and gazing into the stone? He shook himself and went back to his conversation. It would not do to have the impulsive young men catch onto anything. They would never let it go.

The light reflected oddly in the gem, drawing Hermione in. She reached behind her for a towel and brought it forward, and slowly started to wipe the blood from the necklace. With each swipe of the towel over the piece of jewelry, Hermione took away more of the blood and revealed more of the inner light. Finally the gem was unsoiled and she placed the towel down carefully. Why would he leave her this necklace? What was it's significance?

Why would he leave her anything?

As she stared into its depths, a thought came to mind. _What if he cared for you? What if he wanted you to have it as a token of his affection?_ Her rational mind knew that this must be false, but the gem drew her in and showed her a brief flash of Draco's face, smiling at something. Her breath caught in her throat, and a hand slid up to her neck. She tucked her feet under herself, and Biddy came and sat on the bed, ready now to serve and protect this female who acted so much like her Master.

_Could he have loved me? All these years, could it have been love? _The question haunted Hermione, and she did not dare believe it. If that was true- no, better not to think about what might have happened. Her foolish childhood crush on the Malfoy Heir had been nothing more, had never been returned.

Had it?

Seeing a last fleck of blood on the emerald, Hermione reached for the towel again, and wiped it spotless. Looking back into the depths, she caught her breath as it showed her another memory of Draco, this one right before his death, asking Biddy to take care of 'his' Mudblood. Hermione closed her eyes, tears leaking silently out of them as she realized what Draco had done for her, and why.

The men were talking lowly, not wanting to interrupt whatever Hermione was doing, but she still heard them utter the phrase "Let the Rebellion Live", and it crystallized her intentions.

She stood, catching the other's attention by the mere act, and clasped the necklace around her neck. Taking in the faces of the three men watching her, and the hand of the house elf who looked on, Hermione said "'Let the Rebellion Live' indeed. Let's get moving."

As she turned away to get dressed, her free hand slid up to caress the emerald.

_

* * *

_

Alright, guys.

_Thank you for sticking with me on this one, and never fear- you'll be seeing more of me really soon! Lotsa stuff to post still, and just remember to Read and Review!_

_I'll love you forever if you do…_

_Love, _

_Netrixie_


End file.
